The Weather Outside is Frightful
by Kitsune Heart
Summary: Meeting the parents is scary, but joining your significant other's family for the holidays is outright terrifying. And if those holidays are for a different religion, then the learning curve is horrific. Holly is not looking forward to Christmas at Fowl Manor, but perhaps there's something waiting there to make all the stress worthwhile. Fluff, baby. All the fluff.


For those of you who don't know, I've been testing out various platforms for keeping people up to date with my writing, as FanFiction dot net normally gets my updates after a delay, due to some terrible treatment I've received from them (this particular story is being simul-posted, to get the news out). I have since settled on Facebook as the best method, as many of you probably already have a Facebook account, and it has the perk of allowing people to get into discussions about posts, while also reducing the chance that my mass e-mails get marked as spam.

You can find me on Facebook under the name of "Kitsune Heart." I'll be accepting all friend requests.

Of course, I encourage everyone to think carefully on this, especially as it regards strangers and the Internet. You'll see I've got pretty much nothing listed on the Facebook page, including my real name or location. Coming from a foolish childhood where I did give someone I met on-line my address (thank the gods he was a moron and lost it before he could mail the engagement ring...and, no, I'm not joking), I want you all to be safe. If you're worried about your privacy, but still want to connect to me, make sure to research Facebook's privacy settings and pick the best option for you. Remember, just because we're all Artemis Fowl fans, that doesn't mean we're all good people. Be conservative with your information.

**But, in summary: To get my latest stories immediately, friend "Kitsune Heart" on Facebook!**

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**The Weather Outside is Frightful**

"Okay, so, the tree is done—"

"I imagine Mother has saved a few ornaments for you to put on."

"_Crap._ Crap. How do I arr—"

"Just put them wherever looks nice, Holly. There's no rhyme or reason to tree decorating.

"Oh...okay...then how do I roast chestnuts over the yule log?"

"One, you would roast them _in_ the fire, despite the song. Two, all chestnuts at the Manor will come pre-roasted, courtesy of Butler. Three, I don't believe there has been an actual wood fire in Fowl Manor in half a decade. We use gas, now."

"Oh." Holly tapped her fingers on her knees. Then snapped her head to look at Artemis, who—ignoring the elf entirely—kept looking out the windshield at the road. "In what order do we light the candles?"

Artemis frowned, brows drawn as he squinted out the windshield through the rain. "Candles?"

"On the...big...candlestick thingie," Holly said. Then, grinning, went on. "I know I'm not supposed to blow them out! Butler told me he did that in front of Gaspard last year." She smiled at the foolishness of her old friend, who was regularly made more foolish by his connection to Holly's new, tentative friend, Minerva.

"That's the Paradizo's tradition," Artemis said, condescending. "The 'candlestick thingie' is a menorah. It's _Jewish."_

Holly stared at the young man driving. Then brightened. "Oh, right! A Jew is like a baby Christian, and when you grow up you become Muslims!"

Artemis cursed under his breath and began to slow the car down as he circled around a grand water fountain, which was just a few dozen feet from the grand staircase that led to the even grander front doors of the ridiculously grand—

Holly took a deep breath and barely heard Artemis respond. "Best not to discuss religion with my family."

Holly wilted, grabbing the hem of her knee-length skirt. A _skirt_. She sort of cursed Vinyáya for living through her Arctic ordeal and fighting her way back to the Lower Elements. The Wing Commander was the only person in the world who could put Holly in something other than jeans or her Recon jumpsuit.

Artemis, seeing his girlfriend's wide variety of discomforts, smiled gently and leaned in, bestowing a comforting kiss to her cheek. "You've met them. They love you." He reached out to tuck a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. "_I_ love you."

Holly managed to return the smile, but just for a moment. "Just one more question."

With a frustrated sigh, Artemis snapped off his seat-belt. "Yes, dear?"

Holly tilted her head. "Who is King Wenceslas?"

Halfway to opening the door, Artemis paused to turn back to his partner. "What?"

"King Wenceslas," Holly repeated. "There's a song. Something about a feast for Steven? I don't get it."

"Holly," Artemis drawled, "_no one_ understands 'Good King Wenceslas.'"

The elf scowled. "Even you?"

Artemis rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, but—"

"Who is he?"

"Let's go inside," Artemis muttered, wrenching the door open, letting in a blast of cold air.

Holly shrieked, tucking herself further into her jacket as the last hour's work by the car's heater was swept away by a pouring Irish evening.

Being a gentleman, Artemis came to Holly's door and, on opening it, allowed the treacherous air to attack the woman on either side. Her teeth began to chatter painfully.

"Come on," Artemis said, holding open his scratchy wool jacket to act as an umbrella. He, himself, didn't even flinch in the rain, though his hair was becoming waterlogged.

Holly nodded, vision buzzing as her shield kicked in on its own, raising her blood pressure until her entire body vibrated, sending her half invisible. Despite that, as Artemis took the elf's hand, he didn't jolt at her chill. It was utterly unfair that as she died of hypothermia she gave off heat like a magma chute. Artemis used the term "exothermic." Holly used the term "give me your sweater, you ass!"

They rushed up the stairs, Artemis sure-footed despite the flat soles of his formal shoes, Holly only the same because of Vinyáya's increasingly bizarre training regimen, which included high-heel facilitated assassination.

Vinyáya had interesting stories...

Holly was just considering some of Vinyáya's techniques to survive in the Arctic wasteland—and wondering where the nearest defenseless bunny was so she could make a floppy-eared hat—when the door opened.

Holly very nearly converted to Christianity right there, because the radiating warmth and light must have been how humans envisioned their afterlife.

No angel, but Angeline stood at the door, squealing in joy at the sight of her eldest. "Artemis, Sweetie! Come here! Oh, you two are soaked!" Despite the dampness of her son, Angeline kept squeezing, only stepping back to let the couple in and the door close.

Holly had just begun to adjust to the warmth, even considering removing her thin jacket and leaving it in the coat closet as Artemis had done, when Angeline transferred the hug to her son's guest, and Holly nearly melted into the radiating warmth and affection.

"Holly, how has the LEP been treating you? I hear you have a new special subordinate!" The matron fairly sang the last, undoing the hug to clasp Holly by the shoulders, looking her over.

"The newbie is doing fine," Holly said, trying for the gruffness of Root, failing quite utterly. "She's up for promotion, in fact."

"A _second_ female captain," Angeline said with a satisfied grin. "Wonderful. _And_ exhausting. You must be dead on your feet. Come, come, dinner is almost ready!" Standing, Angeline pushed the pair out of the foyer and down the long hallways to the Manor's more intimate dining room.

Artemis had told Holly that the Fowls had never been an affectionate clan before his father was rescued, but the elf had never seen that past. Artemis the elder always nearly crushed her in an embrace that was only matched by the combined strength of his twins.

"Holly! Holly! The news says there's gonna be snow!" Beckett hopped as he continued hugging the captain, rattling her brain.

"O-oh?" Holly managed, teeth snapping with the impact of each landing.

"Temperature and atmospheric pressure indicates a seventy-seven percent chance," Myles said, standing back to avoid the vigorous shaking. "Perhaps nothing spectacular, but a few flakes."

"Snow on Christmas!" Beckett cheered. "Let's make snow angels, Holly!"

"Oh, there most certainly won't be enough snow for that," Myles dismissed.

Beckett stopped hopping.

Still holding onto Holly, he slowly spun his head to look upon his brother, eyes slitted. "Snow. Angels," he hissed.

Myles blinked. And swallowed. "Very well. Snow angels."

Beckett glowed. "Yay!" He resumed bouncing.

Some minutes later, and very rattled, Holly was freed from the enthusiastic twin by Butler's announcement of dinner. It seemed home cooking was the only thing that could trump theoretical snow.

Holly was more than stunned at the spread. And only queasy for a moment on sighting the golden turkey. It was the only part of the meal that wasn't vegetarian, and a suitable second main of stuffed shiitake mushrooms waited for the elf to pack down her throat. And pack down she did, barely recalling the etiquette lessons Artemis had given her at his apartment near the Hill of Tara over the past year. Luckily, Beckett was thrice as undignified, getting all the affectionate chiding of his mother and father, and they were too cheerful over the holiday to engage in serious lectures.

Even when dinner seemed officially over, the family didn't leave the table, even to clean the dishes. Plates were piled up, food pushed to the far end, and the family sat, reflecting on Christmas's past. Angeline reveled in a college year spent in Mexico on charity work, and her first dinner of tamales. The twins raved about the previous year, spent in the Americas, where they—rich brats though they were—had been completely blown away by the twinkling of Times Square and FAO Schwarz. Butler told of a very raucous Christmas Eve with the Gendarmerie (based on the smirks shared between Butler and Artemis the elder, Holly suspected a lot was being left out of this story). Juliet told of Madame Ko's yearly present battles: lose your battle, and Madame Ko kept your presents. Artemis Sr. told about his first winter with Angeline, in the one year they lived outside Fowl Manor, cuddled in a little cupboard of an apartment in Dublin. And Artemis, of course, told of kidnapping a fairy and outwitting her entire species...to save his family, of course.

"And that was very wrong of you," Angeline said at the end of the story, darting looks at her twins, but then smiling. Despite her worries about their ambitions, it seemed she was still having problems being severe that night.

"And what about you, Holly?" Artemis Sr. ventured. "I know Arty joined you for the winter solstice celebration. What did you do?"

Artemis coughed and took a long drink of wine, his face reddening far quicker than could be blamed on an alcohol flush.

"Oh, well, each fairy family has its own traditions," Holly said, and began to describe the various ways each race celebrated, diplomatically failing to point out where the practices had been stolen by humans. Dwarves took their yearly bath in water infused with citrus juices, the acid helping to break down the coatings of tunnel waste. Demons indulged in sticky cakes molded to resemble the moon. Goblins burned sacred herbs—and anything else flammable, if they'd been drinking—to chase evil spirits from their homes. Pixies wandered door to door with gifts and advice, accumulating favors to be redeemed in the coming year. Sprites conducted an intricate aerial dance, "tying the sun" back to the Earth. Gnomes blessed the seeds to be planted in the coming spring. And centaurs stayed locked in their homes, lighting candles to make the sun jealous and writing poetry to bribe her home...or, in the opinion of the rest of the Lower Elements, to scare the night away.

Holly failed to mention elf traditions. For them, the end of the longest day of the year symbolized the renewal of life far more than even spring, and they emulated that renewal in the one way they could. Holly had expected good-Catholic-upbringing Artemis to put up a double protest at the pagan ritual and its actual contents, but he'd been _very_ respectful of Holly's culture.

In fact, he'd respected it three times.

The thought had just begun to heat Holly's own cheeks when she noticed that Beckett—who had been constantly shifting in his chair, if only by fractions during this story-time—had gone utterly still. His eyes wide. His grin wider.

"Snow," he breathed.

There were no windows in this tiny dining room, but there was no denying the boy's proclamation. Not when he exploded from his chair, screaming "_SNOW SNOW SNOW!"_Holly couldn't even turn her head fast enough to track the child as he shot out of the room.

"Your jacket!" Angeline screeched, jumping to her feet and rushing after. "Beckett, don't you _dare _go outside without your jacket! Do you hear me, young man!?"

The rest of the family sat, stunned in the aftermath, for about a minute.

Holly looked at Artemis. "Will I be healing Beckett's pneumonia?"

"If Mum doesn't murder him," Artemis confirmed, standing. "Come," he commanded, holding a hand out to the elf. "You have never seen snow, correct? We should hurry, before the weather shifts."

"Snow. Snow is...frozen, right?"

But Holly found herself taking Artemis's hand, following him down the halls and to the front doors. Myles had trotted on ahead and was opening a small closet next to the entryway, taking out a sharply cut green jacket and shrugging it on—gaining Angeline's approval, which barely came through her worry as she looked out the door at her most troublesome child—before making his way carefully down the steps.

There was a gust of wind.

Holly. About. Died.

"Snow is evil," she hissed, wrapping herself up in her own arms.

Artemis looked down on the elf with a raised brow. "Well, if Beckett won't be using his jacket, you could. It should fit you well enough." Taking it from the hook, he held it out.

Holly stared at it. The yellowness. The grinning, buck-toothed face. The...pants.

"I'm not wearing that," she said, firm.

Artemis frowned. "Why not?"

"I am _not_," Holly said, cutting her hand through the air, "wearing a mentally challenged _sponge._"

"Holly," Artemis said with a roll of his eyes, "the term is 'special needs.'"

Holly glared and stepped back from the door.

"Fine. Then wear mine." He exchanged coats for one far larger and of thick black wool, which would have looked fabulous over any of his suits.

"You need that," Holly protested, purely out of form. She eyed the jacket with lust.

"I'm Irish, Holly," Artemis said, amplifying his brogue to an almost absurd level. "I'll live. Now, here, before Beckett follows family tradition." He snapped the coat out, letting it fall over the woman's shoulders.

"Huh? Ooooooh." Holly had forgotten all about her question as the wool overcoat was wrapped around her shoulders, radiating her rapidly escaping body heat right back at her. She was swimming in the thing, but that barely slowed her down as she shoved her arms through the sleeves and fumbled with the enormous buttons.

"Kidnapping," Artemis said, just as Holly felt an iron grip on her arm. He watched, smirking, as she was nearly lifted off her feet, yanked outside and down the stairs.

"Holly! Holly! Snow angels!" Beckett cheered. Then he flopped to the ground.

As it had been raining and this was the driveway, there wasn't so much a delightful coating of powder as a mud and rock pudding that was crystallizing in the cold. The flakes themselves disappeared on touching earth. Beckett could barely move his arms in the thick grit. So it wasn't so much a "snow angel" that Beckett made, but more a mud—

Holly covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. So much made sense, now.

"Come on, Holly," Beckett said from the ground, sitting up. Sludge ran down the back of his head.

The elf took a wise step back. "That's okay, Beckett. I've...done that before," she lied outright.

"Show me!" Beckett demanded, starting to rise.

Holly jumped back, thumping into something quite solid behind her. Looking up, she saw the ice-blue eyes of Artemis gazing down at her. Despite his reassurances about nationality-based cold resistance, the tip of his nose was turning red.

"_Lying to a child, Captain?_" Artemis murmured in Gnommish.

"_Self-preservation, Mud Man_," Holly replied with affection.

"Beckett," Artemis said, arresting the boy's advance. "Have you caught any snowflakes on your tongue?"

Beckett's eyes widened and he craned his neck back, mouth gaping open, tongue flopped out. He proceeded to barrel across the lawn in his quest, somehow managing to not face-plant, despite being unable to see the ground.

Holly watched him go, smiling, and looked back up at Artemis.

"Your ears are turning blue," he chided.

"I'm f-fine," she lied once more.

Chuckling, Artemis tugged something knitted and red and white from his pocket, popping it onto Holly's head, pulling down the insulated flaps to cover her ears.

There was instant warmth...and irritation. "What is it?" She monotoned, lacking the rising lilt at the end of the sentence to make it a question, rather than the demand it really was.

"A hat," Artemis said, his small attempt at innocence failing utterly. "Beckett's."

"Artemiiiiiis," Holly began.

"Red panda," Artemis said in a rush, knowing it was best to satisfy the woman.

Holly narrowed her eyes and looked up her forehead at the plastic nose and whiskers, and the red yarn that matched her own hair so closely.

Then, snorting dismissal, she craned her head back and opened her mouth to catch snowflakes.

Knowing full well nothing could be added to the scene to make Holly cuter—chilly lover, over-sized coat, animal-themed hat—Artemis contented himself with wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling the elf close and watching her sway as she tried to guide a snowflake to her tongue.

This proved far more difficult than she'd have thought, as her breath melted half of the flakes before they even got close. A full minute passed with no success. Holly's ears were warm, but her fingers ached from the cold. So, logically, she put them into Artemis's jacket pockets.

Her fingers were not cold enough to fail to feel the small box covered in fine velvet.

Her mind—made sluggish from chill—barely managed to recognize what she took out of Artemis's pocket.

"Oh," Artemis cursed. The last time he'd sounded so panicked, he'd been certifiably insane. He reached down. "Sorry, that's—"

Holly popped the box open.

A single snowflake landed gently on the diamond's crown, not even touching the setting's prongs.

"For...tomorrow," Artemis finished weakly.

Holly stared at the ring.

"It...I was going to ask in private. Because it doesn't have to be right away," Artemis babbled. "We can wait for you to get a Recon position on the surface or for me to get a visa to live in Haven. Or we can wait longer. Or if you don't want—"

"Yes," Holly said.

Artemis froze. "W...what?"

Holly turned in Artemis's arms, holding the engagement ring between them, noting that, even with all their body heat, the snowflake was resolutely remaining solid. "Yes."

Artemis blinked.

Then, slowly, began to smile. Snow was sprinkled in his hair and on his shoulders, and the flakes shook as he let out a disbelieving laugh. "You...really?"

"Yes," Holly repeated, holding the box up, almost at level with Artemis's chest. At his briefly confused look, she tilted her head. "There's something you're supposed to do, Mud Man."

Artemis's smile came back as he took the box and sank to one knee.

There was an uncomfortable _squeeech _as his knee sunk into the slush that was now the driveway.

Artemis's back stiffened and he looked down at his soiled slacks. Then back to Holly. "You did that on purpose."

"Still want to marry me?" Holly asked.

Artemis didn't answer with words. Instead, he took Holly's left hand and removed the ring from the box, sliding it on her third finger.

It, of course, fit perfectly.

Holly looked down at this strange object on her hand. Then up at her human lover. She opened her mouth to say something—something loving and entirely fitting for their coming life together—when a cluster of snowflakes landed on her nose and she yelped at the cold.

Laughing, Artemis tightened the jacket about Holly's shoulders. "Let's get you back inside, my dear captain."

"Y-yeah," Holly chattered, accepting Artemis's hand and turning towards the Manor.

Angeline stood at the doorway, scolding Beckett, who seemed to have given up on snow angels in favor of a snow bath. There wasn't an inch on him not covered in mud and a few tenacious bits of gravel. He was grinning through his clicking teeth.

"If you catch cold, I will not have Holly heal you," Angeline decreed. "You need some sense knocked into you, and maybe a week in bed will do it! I can't believe you, Beckett! Neither of your brothers act like this."

"A-Artemis isn't wearing a jacket," Beckett challenged.

"_Artemis _knows when to come in," Angeline responded, turning to face her eldest and the elf he'd brought home. "And he gave his jacket to a _lady_. You, Beckett..."

Angeline's tirade died out.

She stared at Holly's left hand.

Holly stopped in her tracks.

At her side, Artemis chuckled and squeezed her hand. "I am _so _sorry, Holly."

Angeline began taking a deep, _deep _breath, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh," Holly whispered. "_D'arvit._"

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**I'm a Southern California girl lured up to NorCal by a man (psh...and all he did was have the gall to MARRY me and support my under-employed ass...), so, to me, one of the most romantic things a guy can do is to **_**shut up and give me your sweater! **_**So that's where part of this came from. The beginning of Holly's freak-out is based on the many little **_**faux pas **_**I came across learning about my new family's Jewish traditions. As a general tip, don't blow out the candles and, no matter how proud you are to have learned to make it and braid it, never volunteer to make the challah for Passover.**

**I'm also just generally amused with the idea of Minerva being Jewish. It just...fits, for me. And South America, where part of her family comes from, is where many Jews in exile lived, so I just am going with that. Minerva is Jewish!**

**Normally I ask for reviews in the comments section below, and that's still a good idea, to make sure other people know this isn't a crap story, but also go back to the Facebook post and start a discussion! Most of why I settled on Facebook as my update platform is the ability for you all to have a dialog, instead of just being isolated in reviews.**

**So, review and Facebook! Away!**


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